


one push forward

by aliquoten



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliquoten/pseuds/aliquoten
Summary: In the chaos of the Christmas Market, Kunimi and Kindaichi take a moment to reflect on how things are changing.
Kudos: 11
Collections: Secret Santa Haikyuu 2019





	one push forward

**Author's Note:**

> My secret santa piece for Calli! A very belated Merry Christmas to you, and I hope you enjoy it!

Akira Kunimi is a teenager of few words and just as few interests. He likes to keep to himself. These are all fundamental facts that the volleyball team in Kitagawa Daiichi, and then in Aoba Johsai learn quickly enough. Which is why Akira can’t understand why he’s _here,_ out in the cold, instead of bundled up inside where he should be. The Christmas market’s strung up with lights, the bright decorations and festive atmosphere both doing their part to draw significant crowds. Though the chatter is nowhere near the level of noise of a stadium’s audience during a game, Akira still knows which one he would feel more comfortable with. He doesn’t stifle the sigh nor the look of flat unamusement when Kindaichi tries to tug him along faster.

“Why am I here?” he asks, packing as much displeasure as he possibly can into the handful of words. It’s a gift, being able to express himself so succinctly. Why waste energy and breath on an entire speech when he can get the point across with 1/5th of the effort?

“Oh c’mon, you know you want to spend some time with the third years before they graduate! They barely stop by the practices anymore.” Kindaichi pays him no mind as he ushers Akira along through the stalls. As usual, his annoyance slides off of his friend’s back, though Akira can’t bring himself to feel _too_ disgruntled about it. It’s an unfortunate side effect of having a best friend in the first place—he sees right through Akira, even when Akira doesn’t want him to.

Kindaichi is right, of course. As much as his senpai’s antics could exasperate him, Akira _likes_ the third years. Respects Oikawa, in particular, as much as he could respect anyone. For his skill on the court, for his drive, for his ability to _work_ with Akira’s nature.

“Fine.” It’s not exactly an agreement, but it’s close enough. For his own sake, Akira ignores the triumphant grin on Kindaichi’s face the rest of the way.

The outdoor skating rink is exactly as Akira expects it to be: messy, filled with too many people, and not really worth all the trouble it took to get here. A quick inspection of the ice, with its uneven bumps and the deep grooves left by the many people who skated here before him, has him sighing and drifting toward the side, where he’s less likely to trip over himself. It’s not a bad place to make himself at home. He is not the only one clinging to the boards, which makes him far less likely to stand out. From here, he can watch the rest of the team make utter fools of themselves. Already, he can spot Oikawa laughing as he skates quickly away from a scowling Iwaizumi, Matsukawa and Hanamaki goading them on like they usually do. The scene’s as familiar as any he might have seen at practice earlier in the year, and Akira’s surprised by the pang that thought sends through him. Maybe he’ll miss the third years more than he expected. This isn’t like middle school, where most of the volleyball club had expected to attend the same school again eventually. After this, they’d be splitting up to find jobs, attend university elsewhere—the possibilities are endless.

Akira looks away with a frown. It’s not like him to get so maudlin, and he’s _definitely_ not telling Kindaichi about this.

“I _knew_ you’d be hiding over here somewhere.” Speak of the devil and he appears. Or thinking of him, in this case.

Akira shrugs, winding his scarf more tightly around himself. They might not have any official matches lined up until the start of the new school year, but there’s no way Akira’s going to let himself catch a cold anyway. “What were you talking to Yahaba-senpai about?”

“Oh yeah! We’re grabbing one of the media rooms to watch nationals with the team next month. You’re coming, right?” Kindaichi asks, as if framing it as a question would somehow negate the expectant look on his face. Willing or not, Akira’s going to find himself in that room with the rest of them.

“It’s a good opportunity,” Akira says slowly, darting a glance in Kindaichi’s direction. “We can collect information on them for next year.” Because of all the teams heading to the national stage, there’s one they will all be watching carefully.

“We’ll crush them! That Kageyama—and Hinata, too!” Kindaichi visibly falters when Akira glowers at him. “What?”

It’s nothing unusual, when Kindaichi’s simply confirming what Akira had already suspected anyway. From that first practice match with Karasuno to his preoccupation with Hinata during the camp, it’s always been clear to Akira that Kindaichi’s never fully let go of what happened in middle school. Kageyama’s been stuck to his thoughts this entire time, like the prickly burr that he is. Akira doesn’t like it. 

“You’re wasting your time,” he says bluntly, tugging his scarf down until his words can reach Kindaichi unmuffled. “Clinging to the past isn’t going to do you any good.”

Kindaichi’s expression turns incredulous in the blink of an eye. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you that he’s playing like _that_ with them, Kunimi. He was on your case all the time, too!”

Does it bother him? Not like it does Kindaichi, apparently. For all the judgment Kageyama had given him during practice back then, Akira’s resentment for him has long-since melted away, leaving something like wariness in its stead. Even back in middle school, no one had really understood him the way Kindaichi did, but at least the other club members had been willing to work with him. All but one.

_“You’re good. Why don’t you play more seriously?”_

Akira can’t say that the words haunted him, but they’d lingered in the back of his throat like an unpleasant aftertaste for some time, adding more kindling to the fire that had swept over the entire team in their third year. Attitudes like that irritate him the most. As if there’s only one right way to show passion for the sport. As if being quiet and calm instead of reckless means he cares less. He might not work himself to the bone, but everyone knows how unlikely it is that he’d waste effort on something he doesn’t care about. And volleyball is one of the few things that doesn’t fall into that category. Oikawa had understood that about him, despite being one of the last to leave the gym every day, and hadn’t pushed him to change like Kageyama had.

So, no, he doesn’t resent Kageyama. The past is the past, and Akira doesn’t see any use in wondering if he could have learned to trust Kageyama as a teammate again when they aren’t in the same team any longer. If that changed in the future—well, he’d think about it then.

When the weight of Kindaichi’s stare grows too heavy, Akira sighs, breath puffing out in a soft, white cloud in the cold night air. “Not really. Why bother thinking about something you can’t change now?”

Kindaichi opens his mouth, then winces as a child stumbles into them from the side, not for the first time tonight. Akira’s had just about enough by then. Kindaichi flinches again, this time from Akira’s jab at his side. 

“Let’s check out the market instead. You’re buying me hot chocolate for dragging me out here, by the way.”

He waits until after they’ve returned their rental skates, the two of them trudging toward the food stalls, before he pauses, looking over his shoulder with his tongue stuck out. “You’re right, though. We’re going to crush them next time.”

As Kindaichi throws his head back and laughs, Akira lets a rare smile touch his lips and tugs his scarf back up to cover it.


End file.
